Fathers
by No Named Writer
Summary: Rufus finds the one thing that separates him and his father


**UNBETAED!!!! PLEASE TELL ME IF THERE ARE SPELL FAILS PLEASE??**

Rufus gritted his teeth. His grip tightened on the small bottle of Scotch. His fierce sapphire gaze bore into the wall in front of him. One thought buzzed through his head, and one that was not too pleasant. "GODDAMMIT!" he hissed and threw the bottle at the wall shattering the glass and spilling its contents all over the expensive carpet of his office. He muttered curses as ran a hand through his already messed up hair. The hair that he had been tugging and pulling at as his rattled his muddled brain for answers.

Was nothing in this world his!? Did he truly own NOTHING!? His shallow hatred infused eyes stared bitterly at the picture of his _FATHER. _The one that was in his _own _office! He wasn't even sure why he hung the damned thing up in the first place! "I hate you…" he muttered his eyes fixated in the painting. "You caused this…" he had ever reason to hate the man ion the painting. The man was ugly, fat, and the most evil man on the face of the planet. And here was Rufus, strong, beautiful, intelligent, and yet… he had nothing.

He was trapped in his fathers shadow, he knew that. No one even had to tell him that. He _knew _that. Every where he looked he saw something his father owned. This company, the Turks, his home, everything! Even his own life! It bothered him to no end to know all his life when people see him they think of his father, they think of the monster he MAY become. Well, then guess what!? He was not nor would he ever will be like _him_!

He was not like his father in no way shape or form! He was Rufus! Rufus Shinra not some second rate copy of that evil man. He was his own man! Why can't people see that!? He caused this! He caused his death! He had lost, he knew that…

The blond hung his head low. A bitter resentment in his eyes. "Maybe…he was right…" for a while, all Rufus did was stare at his lap. Words of self-resentment and repeated over and over, further breaking his resolve, or what little he had left of it at this point. Maybe… he really wasn't suited to run this company… maybe, maybe he was "only a pawn." A pawn whose only purpose was to further the reach on the Shinra Corporation. Or maybe… he just wasn't worthy enough to carry the Shinra name. Maybe… No! What was he thinking! This isn't the way a Shinra should think! So what if he was the "Bad son"!? Quite frankly, No one really cared! They were expecting _him _to take charge, not his father!

But then why…? That hollow feeling tugged at the back of his mind. Why the sudden self-doubt? Why the resentment? He looked back up at the painting, then he looked at the floor where he broken bottle lay. He winced slightly; he'd have to clean that up before anyone came in… a soft sigh escaped from his lips.

"Fathers…" he muttered bitterly getting up and walking over to the shattered glass. He bent down and picked up the larger glass fragments. He was careful as to not cut his hand. Long delicate fingers skillfully picked each shard, as he picked up the glass his mind wondered back to his father. Ok this was pissing him off now. For Shiva's sake this was getting ridiculous… why was that man on his mind so much!? What even got him thinking--! Oh… right. Just then re was reminded the he owned nothing. He was still stuck in has father shadow. When ever anyone was him, they automatically thought of his _Father. _This was… this infuriated him to no end. Why can the people just see him? He was here, not his father. His father was dead—he hissed, a sudden pain in his hand stopped his train of thought. His story blue gaze traveled down to his hand. Great… he just cut his hand…

"A bad son huh?" he mumbled as he watched the blood flow from his hand with some sick form a fascination. He walked over to the waste basket and dumped the glass shards in, his eyes still locked in the small wound in his hand. He chuckled lightly. "if I am a bad son… then he was a terrible father…" he smiled lightly at the thought. His gaze once more flicked up to the painting. A cold icy smile on his lips and a new resolve in his eyes. "this world is mine…" he said triumphantly. He had found the one thing he had that has father did not. He was alive. His father was dead. "this world is mine and you have to say any longer."


End file.
